25 Drabbles
by Ashen-Star-Eclipse
Summary: Emelanverse 'First words' prompts for each drabble. Drabble 5: He played me like a..... R&R.
1. Only a Child

**25 Drabbles **

Just to show that yes, I am alive, and yes, I'm still writing. The drabbles may end up being long or short, whatever I need to tell the story. Drabbles based on 'first words' prompts on www(dot)feath(dot)com/idea/idea(dot)htm…. Various parings, genres, and characters… (All Emelan-verse.) Most likely these will all be unconnected.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX …Drabble 1

_**Only a Child**_

It was only a child, yet it was taking his place. He knew it was a baby, the shrieking, annoying thing, but he didn't have to like it.

He looked at it with half shut eyes. All he wanted to do was take a nap. A nap would be nice, he thought, covering his ears.

He watched Tris scurry about, her skirts flapping. He eyed her with affection. He would much like to chase her.

Giving a doggish grin, he got up. A nice pat on the rump would be good. He minced across the floor, and nuzzled close.

"I don't have time, Little Bear."

He sulked across the floor, and sunk back down, paws over his ears. The bird was still screaming.

……….

A/N: So? What do you think? R&R

Edit:: Because I gathered three anonymous reviews, I thought I would take the time to adress their concerns. I shall site them for you::

_From__: **Lucky juju**... What do I think?... I think it made no sense. Your sentence structure is that__ of a toddler.. Pay attention in english class mate... adios and buenas dias..._

This is _supposed _to be simplistic in form. It's Little bear's reaction to Shriek when Tris first brings the bird home. (I was trying for something non-offensive for shippers in the first chapter...) This is _not _to say that all the drabbles will be like this- I tend to be very long winded and connot confine myself to the strict 'drabble is 100 words' meaning; I find myself leaning to use the 'drabble is less than 500 words' theory. (Actually, I couldn't make the 100 word limit work on this piece, either, though I tried.) Finally, this was a stream-of consiousness work. I put myself in Bear's shoes, (or paws, as it were) and wrote. Then I went back to do the most horrible thing one can do for this type of writing: I edited! -gasp!- ...To say this work has the diction and syntax of a toddler is right- and I did that on purpose. How in-depth of thoughts does one think dogs have? I conclude my explination on "_**Only a Child**_".

_From: **jojo the ya**__**k**... Freedom? I would like freedom from this chapter.. its oppressive.. oh and btw brunettes have more fun_

As for "_**Freedom**_", there are different types of freedom. What one finds oppressive, others may find appealing. A peasent may long for the freedom to lounge about all day, while nobility may long for the non-expectations of socity. Oh, and _by the way_, one must be very childish indeed to comment on another screenname... and, one may notice that I never mentioned who had more fun... besides, isn't 'fun', as well as freedom, relative?

_From: **rhine boy tono**... briar should be with sandry not tris.. bo_

I respect all opinions- all I ask in return is that people respect mine. And mine on the subject is that if there are any inter-circle relations, I believe that Briar and Tris would make a good match. One will notice, however, that is only my _opinion _and it is not by any means an absoult truth. The only one that knows who should be with who is Tammy, and I don't think that she has any plans for inter-circle rlationships, sadly.

To all, I hope I could clear up any missunderstandings. (July 10, 2007 at 12:10 pm)


	2. Freedom

_**Freedom**_

He held the disk as if it as a precious jewel. It didn't matter that it was made of iron, and he had hefted much more valuable items in his lifetime. It was his ticket out. No one would question him, the former thief-boy, if he strolled along with this in his hand. He could walk out of the temple community without a glance. Summersea was a big city, he could get lost there easy.

But… His stomach had never felt so full, walking away from the kitchens with a pastry in his mouth, and a second in his hand for the trip. And of course there was always the promise of three meals a day. Briar never had that promise while living in the slums in Sotat.

And he knew some of the plants that grew along the walkway, too. By the kitchens, he had passed rows of vegetables- carrots and cabbages and potatoes; the path on which he was strolling so casually had forget-me-nots sprinkling the grass on either side, and a weed (what was it called? Some type of lion… A dandelion!) that Rosethorn was always complaining about, but Briar rather liked, grew in patches.

Starting on the second pastry, he thought of what he would be doing if that Bag Niko hadn't shown up at the trial. If he was still on the docks, he wouldn't have much time left. And life on the streets was never a sure thing either… Briar nodded.

Tucking the second half of the treat in his pocket, he ran to Discipline. He'd finish it on the roof.

He had his freedom.


	3. Coppercurls

_**Coppercurls**_

As tart as green apples, as warm as summer's long days… Her kiss was tangy and loving, innocent and passionate.

He had been with many girls, but none had given him this fire. Briar ran his fingers through braided hair, coiled just right against her head. He thought of his first impression- that hair, loose against her pale face. Striking.

He moved his mouth to her temple, kissing softly down her jaw and back again. Her eyes fluttered opened with a surprising femininity. She held his hand in hers, watching his tattoos change and bloom- green vines gave way to bursting roses and ruffled tulips of vivid reds, yellows and oranges.

Briar pulled her closer, and the winds came across the sea, wrapping her skirt around his legs. His shirt pulled and whipped across his chest and back.

His kisses moved down her neck, in what her mother would consider improper places. But what did she care for her mother- she was dead to her. Nature was her mother. She let out a soft moan that was covered by thunder.

He recaptured her lips as rain started to sweep down. She laughed, and he pulled her into a lean-to of sorts. The wind and water had eroded the rock away, a ten foot cover and shelter.

Briar looked into her eyes, gray as the sea behind them. She was drenched, and totally in her element. Rain dipped down her fetures. He kissed her freckled nose with the lightest of touches.

"You're beautiful, Coppercurls."


	4. Poison is a Girl's best Friend

**Poison is a girl's best friend**

Morals were for the weak, those who needed comfort of the soul. Berenene had no use for high morals; she never would have become Empress if she had played by those rules. She thumbed through the new information carefully, more sure than ever that she wanted her cousin and friends within her grasp.

A feral grin crossed her lips, rising from her desk with not the slightest rustle. Smoothing the red silk of her gown, she called for her maid and riding habit. It was time to pay a visit to an apocathary, one whom she was very well acquainted.

……………………

_One hundred words exactly__, without the title__. Written to prove that__, yes,__ I am__ indeed__ alive__, and to further my skills, as I am sorely lacking them once more.__ . _

_Anyhow, not my best work, but I still like the implications. :)_

_R&R, if you would be so kind._


	5. Chapter 5

He played me like a skilled musician. Soft smiles and kind words were littered throughout the week. I actually thought he might fancy me!

I'm embarrassed to admit that I wanted him to.

He told me to meet him at the stone bench at midnight. I knew it would involve sneaking out and lying to Niko, but I said yes.

I wish I hadn't.

It was later then I intended when I arrived- quarter past. He wasn't there. I hoped he hadn't left. I sat on the bench to wait.

Another mistake.

It didn't help matters that I had decided to wear my nicest everyday gown Sandry had made for me. It strained a bit at my bust, but it was my favorite.

I'm never going to wear it again.

And the last thing was the face-paint Sandry had slipped to me with a wink. It was my first time wearing it, but I thought it looked nice. I hoped he liked it.

Face-paint is over-rated.

And there he was, coming through the trees with a crooked smile. He was enchanting.

And then came his friends.

And the honey.

And laughter.

XxXxX

AN: Yes, I am working on Lightning flowers. Chap 15 is well on its way to being finished. I hope to have it out in a couple of weeks. (Don't quote me though!) Anyway, I am alive! (you used to know me as blondegirlshavefun)


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